The Great Dipper

Sometimes I think the beautifullest thing is...

• to lie on a charpoy, covered with fine cotton chadars on a full moon summer's night, trying to find the great dipper against the brightness of the moon's halo, wonder at skeins of swans (migratory birds) lazily flying across the sky, listening to the rustle of the ghaghra's cool breeze amongst the ashok trees,
• waking up to the sound of the papeeha and koel,
• bathing in water freshly brought up from the tube well,
• sitting down to a breakfast of mangoes amongst other things, drinking milk in big brass tumblers (or refusing to drink),
• spending the morning chasing sparrows beneath karonda bushes or pretending to help while actually having great fun with glue, mortars and pestles and herbs and other aromatics,
• having lunch of arhar dal cooked on a wood fire, bhindi sabzi, rice, thin rotis, the tastiest pickles and green chutneys ever and mangoes alongwith atleast 12 other people, drinking cold, cold water freshly pumped (I have never drunk such sweet metallic water since),
• having a long siesta in the afternoon while listening to gossip and funny stories, and being cautioned that going out in the back courtyard would mean being chased by monkeys, which was found to be true gradually by all of us pint sized heroes,
• having a long, uncomplicated tea of pakodas and ginger or kangri or cardamom chai and very sometimes spicy chat,
• going for walks on the banks of the ghaghra or scampering up mango trees and plucking and stuffing still hungry mouths with plump, juicy falsas and returning home triumphantly with sweet limes, falsas, figs and baskets of mangoes,
• being scrubbed by mostly our mothers under the cold, cold fresh water again,
• sitting down to a dinner of rotis, different kinds of veggies and curds and mountains of mangoes yet again and still not tiring of mangoes,
• listening to stories of independence, to the point and factual or fanciful and alive with imagination and fervour depending on the story teller,
• squabbling on the best spots to sleep with atleast 8 other people....

And, I get sad because I know my nephew or if I ever have children, will never, ever know this beauty and never know that way of life....